Following GM Ben Cherington's gushing introduction and an encouragement to shove a Red Sox cap on his "big melon," John Farrell obliged and smiled. He briefly held up his new/old No. 52 jersey, basked in camera flashes and applause from team personnel.

And in his first official comment as Red Sox manager, he got right to the point in a way that rendered the following 40-minute Q&A and ensuing litany of one-on-ones superfluous.

"Ben, you said an awful lot of nice things, but we know it's going to come down to the quality of players on the roster."

Had he ended there, the winter would still be properly framed. (He'd also spared plenty of grief in Toronto, where Farrell's ease in the State Street Pavilion struck many as more than he'd offered in two full years with the Jays.)

Six years ago, Farrell was drawn here by his "daily competitive fire" and the passion we live every day. When he departed for Toronto, it was a hand-picked opportunity with a franchise he believed "is going to compete and compare with New York and Boston in time."

Even if Farrell had gotten them competing for something headier than fourth place, though, Tuesday felt inevitable. The Red Sox, right or wrong, simply can't be pushed aside. There'd been too much groundwork set. There was too much history. You could be forgiven Tuesday for getting caught up in it and ignoring just what led it to pass.

Seeing Farrell with the navy hat, talking of Boston being "the epicenter of the game," it felt as though 2012 never happened. This was the transition from Terry Francona. This was the next step. This was the way to continue the 95-win seasons and deep playoff runs.

Except, of course, for that pesky reality. Tuesday was just the page turning from as ugly a 13 months as this franchise has had since the "Impossible Dream," insufficient "quality of players" showing how quick a juggernaut can revisit its laughingstock roots.

And that's presuming this works.

Farrell is, without question, Cherington's guy. "The right person for this job," he termed it Tuesday. But what does that guarantee? Bobby Valentine's been pinned on his superiors, and injuries did take a nasty toll on the 2012 Sox. But how's that Andrew Bailey/Ryan Sweeney trade looking? Sure, Cody Ross was great. A pitcher not named Aaron Cook would have been better.

Cherington's greatest accomplishment in his first 12 months is a salary dump that simply gives him a clean slate on which to build. (And, if we're being fair, was a miracle opportunity also largely driven by his superiors.) Mike Aviles didn't have a real place in this team's future, but the GM's still hanging his hat on a guy who might not have lasted another year in Toronto.

Managerial success is a funny thing, though. A generation ago, the Red Sox wanted to hire Tony La Russa, but he wouldn't leave Oakland. They settled for Kevin Kennedy ... and won their lone AL East title in 16 years. When Kennedy was dismissed, Whitey Herzog and Jim Leyland each declined when offered the job. The Sox settled for Jimy Williams, who proceeded to last longer than any Sox skipper since Joe Cronin.

If last year's drawn-out, stop-start managerial search landed a candidate even half that good, John Farrell might still just be dreaming of Boston.

Of course, if Valentine had an in-his-prime Nomar, in-his-prime Pedro Martinez and a solid supporting cast, his bleached-white smile and convoluted conversations wouldn't be limited to an image-rehab interview on basic cable.

In short, players win. Not managers.

When we did this a year ago, September 2011 was a blip, a hiccup sure to be righted by a couple new faces and the sample size of an entire season. It was no blip.

It was no primary fault of a manager. It almost never is. It was the pitching staying abysmal. The superstars, across the board, underachieving. The unifying force, the draw pulling everyone in the right direction, never manifesting.

Farrell spoke Tuesday of rekindling that force, hitting every talking point about effort, about trust, and about relentlessness. The things these past 13 months reminded us aren't a given.

"I will work my butt off to earn their trust, earn their respect, and create an atmosphere that will be just that, a respectful one," Farrell said. "If you treat players with that trust, give them that respect, treat them like men, it will come back tenfold."

I'd like to think so. Then again, I was here to see Francona tuned out.

Make no mistake, I like John Farrell. He's a kind man and an incredible baseball man, with about as varied a resume as you can have. I like Cherington. Level-headed. Not prone to panic. Well versed in the ideas that construct great teams in the game today.

If you were going to hand-pick the off-the-field leaders for the next generation of Red Sox success, you could do worse than the top deputies of Terry Francona and Theo Epstein. But there are no guarantees.

Last year in this space, I said the Red Sox had to earn the region's trust again. Earn it with their behavior. Earn it on the field.

John Farrell's not the guy in position to end our waiting.

Jon Couture covers the Red Sox for The Standard-Times. Contact him at jon.couture@bostonherald.com, or through 'Better Red Than Dead' at Blogs.SouthCoastToday.com/red-sox